Hard Work and Perseverance
by Sluie92
Summary: WIP. On indefinite hiatus. Desmond and Shaun during the events of AC2.
1. Chapter 1

Hard Work and Perseverance

An Assassin's Creed II Fanfiction by EdenPictures

Featuring Desmond Miles and Shaun Hastings

With Reference to Ezio Auditore da Firenze and Leonardo Da Vinci

WARNING: Contains; homosexuality, sex, violence and language

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><p><strong>-DESYNCHRONISED-<strong>

"Desmond, that's the fifth time this morning. I'm pulling you out of there."

"For goodness sake Lucy, you can't just stop because he's too stupid to stay alive during the sequences. We don't have time for this."

"Shaun will you just cut it out," said Rebecca, shutting off the Animus and disconnecting Desmond. "Everyone needs a rest, including Baby."

Desmond sat up, blearily rubbing his eyes as he listened to the exchange. He was exhausted, and no wonder; he had been in the Animus all day every day for two weeks, and lately he had been conducting his own research into his ancestor's life after everyone else was in bed. Not to mention that the bleeding effect had been getting worse and worse.

"We've lost four teams in the last week, Rebecca. Every day people rely more and more on us. It's bad enough that this idiot sits on his ass all day wasting our time getting himself killed or exploring memories with more courtesans than is really necessary, but now you're going to stop work because _baby_ needs a _rest_?"

"I'd like to see _you_ do what I do, you pompous, arrogant son of a bitch," said Desmond, standing and lurching towards Shaun.

Shaun spun around on his computer chair, shocked into taking his eyes off the monitor for once. He opened his mouth to make some kind of acid reply, but before he could speak Lucy was between them.

"Boys, that's enough," she said, "we've all been working extremely hard lately and we can't do any good work if we're falling asleep at our desks."

"Or if Baby overheats and blows herself up," added Rebecca from behind them.

Desmond looked as though he were about to protest, but something in Lucy's eyes made him stop. Huffing like a child, he stormed across the room and flung himself down onto his bed. Shaun watched him for a moment before spinning back around to face his monitors again, muttering incoherently.

He didn't get chance to touch the keyboard before Lucy had grabbed his shoulder and spun him back around.

"I said _everyone_ needs a break, Shaun. That means you too."

"Lucy, I-"

"_Shaun._"

Shaun huffed his resignation. He checked a few messages on the screen before shutting down and leaving the room. He didn't even glance at them as he stormed out.

"Jeez, who put a stick up his ass," muttered Rebecca as she gathered her things from the desk and followed him outside.

Lucy said nothing, glancing calculatingly at Desmond's sulking figure before leaving him alone.

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><p>After lunch, Lucy and Rebecca had decided to use their free afternoon to go into town and pick up some supplies. Knowing them as he did, Desmond knew he would have a few hours to kill before they returned. Shaun hadn't come out of his room and hadn't responded to the girls when they had tried to talk to him, so the bartender-come-assassin assumed he was safe to do as he pleased.<p>

He hooked himself up to the Animus 2.0, lay back in the chair and closed his eyes. The stark white image of the loading lobby entered his mind before he was transported to Venice and the familiar surroundings of Leonardo's workshop.

_Ezio was sat on a table watching the painter at work. A beautiful image of the Palazzo Della Seta was taking form on the canvas, a commission for Emilio Barbarigo himself. The conversation was focused on trying to use the painting as some way to gain access to the building, but both assassin and inventor were drawing blanks._

_Suddenly, Leonardo turned away from the painting to face Ezio, worry etched on his face._

"_I don't like this, Ezio. Each time you go on a mission the danger increases, and it is obvious that bastardo Antonio does not really care for your safety."_

_Ezio smirked. "You worry too much, Leonardo. Antonio looks after me just fine, not that I need looking after. I don't know why you hate him so much."_

_Leonardo stepped closer. "I have disregard for anyone that puts my favourite assassin in danger. Although he seems to do that to himself, a lot of the time," he said, smiling faintly as he traced a fresh scar on the younger man's cheek._

_Ezio smiled, bringing his hand up to touch Leonardo's, before tilting his chin and kissing him softly on the lips. His hand left his face to tangle in the inventor's hair, the tenderness of the first kiss making way for the passion and heat of the second._

_Leonardo's strong hands wrapped around the assassin, pulling him closer. He broke the kiss for a moment to glance at the clock._

"_Do you have time..?" he let the hopeful question trail off._

_Ezio smirked. "For you, caro mio, I always hav-_

Abruptly, Desmond was pulled out of the memory. There was no white screen this time, one moment he was in Leonardo's workshop and the next he was sat in the Animus. His eyes flew open and he tried to sit up, only to be pushed back down by a wave of dizziness and nausea. When he recovered, he sat up slowly. His head was pounding but other than that his hasty exit from the Animus didn't seem to have had any adverse effects.

It took him a moment to realise that he was sat in semi-darkness. Looking around, Desmond realised that there had been a power cut. He quickly disconnected himself from the Animus, smiling faintly as he remembered the memory he had been pulled from, and went downstairs to find the electricity monitor.

The monitor and fuse boxes were located next to the alarm system in the warehouse on the bottom floor of the base. Desmond opened the case and flipped the master switch. Nothing happened. He realised then that he couldn't hear the low hum of the generator, and so made his way across the room towards it.

A horse walked across his path and Desmond stopped in his tracks. The bleeding effect. He was still semi-aware of his real surroundings and so pressed on towards the generator. The hallucination only lasted a minute or so and then Desmond was able to restart the engine of the generator, cross the room and restart the power.

The power cut had switched off the alarm system, he realised. Sighing, he climbed a ladder towards the first alarm switch and turned it on. The next switch was across the room. He should really have climbed back down, walked across the room, and climbed the ladder to the next switch. What he did instead however, was climb onto the railing and make a leap for a pipe that spanned the room near the ceiling.

Having picked up Ezio's climbing skills, he easily made the jump and hung from the pipe. The next pipe was merely feet away, so Desmond started to swing towards it. It was a jump he could have made in his sleep, had a guard not leapt at him from a nearby rooftop.

The hallucination felt so real. Ghostly fingers grasped his waist and dragged him down. Desmond lost his grip and tumbled towards the ground.

_It's fine_, he thought_, I'll just land in the canal and swim away._

Crates smashed beneath him, splinters and pieces of jagged wood exploding across the room with the force of impact.

Desmond could see only water. He panicked, trying to swim to the surface. His arms flailed wildly and he kicked his legs out. The movement served only to push sharp wood deeper into his abdomen, punching through soft skin.

The hallucination started to fade, and Desmond stopped struggling. His eyes widened as he saw deep crimson pooling on the floor. He tried to get up, but the wood dug deeper still and a new wave of pain hit him. He sank back to the floor, using the last of his energy to call for Shaun before he succumbed to the dark infinity of unconsciousness.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Sorry for the slight delay in posting chapter 2, if anyone is actually paying attention. I've been really busy with work, but rest assured chapter 3 will be on time!**

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><p>Shaun's laptop died suddenly and he regretted not charging the battery earlier. Sighing, he got up to find his charger cable. It wasn't anywhere in his room, so Shaun stomped into the main room to retrieve it. He fully expected to find Desmond asleep in his bed or sat on his arse doing nothing, but the lazy American was nowhere to be found and the building was eerily quiet. Shrugging, he returned to his room and tried to reboot his laptop.<p>

When nothing happened he checked the cable, but it seemed fine. He was in the process of flicking the light switch on and off when he heard a noise. He opened the door to shout to Desmond, to ask him politely what the fuck he was doing and what the fuck he had done to the electricity, when there was an almighty crash.

Before Shaun could say 'what have you done _now_ Desmond?' his name was called. Something about the other man's voice was amiss. He didn't speak in his usual lazy drawl, the word was urgent and there was an edge to his voice – panic, Shaun realised.

Quickly he started towards the warehouse, the source – he presumed – of Desmond's call. He shouted for the novice assassin but there was no reply. Worried now, Shaun sprinted down the stairs and into the warehouse proper.

He called repeatedly for Desmond but still there was no reply. He ran around a corner and almost tripped on his own feet when he saw the scene in front of him. Wood was everywhere, bits of dust and debris having exploded in a wide radius on impact. Desmond was at the centre of the wreckage, surrounded by a pool of blood that was rapidly getting bigger. A large, jagged splinter of wood protruded from his abdomen.

Shaun paled, racing to Desmond's side and hastily checking the faint pulse in his neck. He breathed a small sigh of relief before lifting one of the younger man's eyelids and checking the pupil's response. Desmond was white as a sheet and still heavily bleeding.

Shaun prided himself on his ability to keep calm under pressure, a skill that had only been honed to perfection as an Assassin. He pulled off his shirt and bunched it up, grasped the wood jutting from Desmond's side, and in one quick motion he had pulled it out and staunched the fresh blood flow with his shirt.

Underneath the shirt Shaun still had a toned Assassin's body; though he had been neglecting his exercise regime of late and as such his muscles were starting to sag. Even so, he easily had the strength to lift the unconscious Desmond and carry him back upstairs. He briefly considered trying to wake the young novice, but decided it would be easier to take care of him if he stayed unconscious.

At the top of the stairs Shaun made a split second decision to take Desmond into his own room (Desmond's would no doubt be too messy), and carefully navigated the door before gently laying him down on the bed. With clinical efficiency he gathered the necessary medical supplies and started tending to Desmond's wound.

Blood seeped from the wound as worked, tweezering out small slivers of wood, stitching and piecing together the broken Assassin. By the time he had finished, Shaun's white bedsheets were stained crimson.

He cleaned up around Desmond, nerves gnawing at his gut as he waited for the younger man to wake up, constantly worrying that his medical skills weren't enough to undo the damage the idiot had done to himself.

Shaun caught himself staring at Desmond, his face creased in concern, and snorted. Since when did he care what happened to the man? He was a lazy, arrogant waste of space and the only reason the historian put up with him was because his memories were crucial in the war against the Templars.

Desmond stirred slightly and Shaun found himself inexplicably drawn to his bedside, his hand somehow holding a damp cloth, dabbing at the other man's forehead before he realised what he was doing. Hastily, he snatched his hand back to himself.

Shaun coughed and decided it was about time that Desmond woke up. This long unconscious could have serious repercussions, he knew. Still, it was nice to have some peace and quiet for once. Some time to think, to contemplate on his situation and his fellow assassins... On Desmond.

_It had been hate at first sight for Shaun. Desmond had waltzed in with his jeans and hoodie and tattoos and whatever mans like some rebellious teenager and everyone was supposed to rely on him. He had taken over, talking about the Renaissance in his infuriating accent and the girls actually listened to him. Nobody ever listened to Shaun when he wanted to talk about the Renaissance. 'It's all in the past, Shaun. We need to be thinking about the future, finding that Piece of Eden. Get back to work'._

_Not that he was bitter or anything. It was true; the kid had a certain charm about him. And like his ancestors Desmond was not bad to look at. But he was also lazy, arrogant, egotistical and downright stupid. The only reason he was even a part of this whole mess was because of who his ancestors were. If Shaun were lucky enough to have ancestors like Desmond's he would damn sure be working a lot harder than the American ever did. He sat there in his chair all day being ungrateful and charismatic and Shaun just had to watch._

_It was so easy to watch Desmond, sometimes. He would lay in the Animus, hook himself up, and a beautiful, peaceful look would come over his features. His face would soften and become angelic, like Michelangelo's David come to life. But then he would awaken and ruin it all by opening his mouth._

Desmond opened his eyes and murmured something incoherent.

Shaun snapped back to reality with a jolt, looking down at Desmond's pale face, a look of relief smoothing his worried features.

"About bloody time," he said, snappier than he had intended.

Desmond looked confused. His eyes were glazed over and though he was looking directly at Shaun, it seemed as though he was seeing something entirely different.

"Desmond?" queried Shaun, the worried crease forming on his forehead once more, "Are you alright?"

"L-Leo? Fa male, Leo... Per favore, puo aiutarmi?" Desmond answered, pleading eyes still glazed.

"Oh shit. Desmond? Des, its Shaun. Not Leo. Shaun," said the Brit, waving his hand in front of Desmond's confused face. His mind was racing, trying to think of something to pull Desmond out of his animus-induced delirium and trying to remember his high-school Italian lessons at the same time.

_L-Leo? It hurts, Leo... Please, can you help?_

Desmond pulled back the sheets and tried to sit up. His face was pallid and covered with a sheen of sweat. He winced as he sat, the stitches in his side pulling roughly.

"Leo," Desmond repeated, "per favore."

Shaun coughed. He looked at Desmond, sighed and shrugged. Here goes nothing...

"Ezio?" he asked, hesitantly.

"Si?"

Shit. Oh shit.

"Uh... Come sta?"

_How are you?_

"Bene. Fa male, pero non è grave. Puo darmi qualcosa per calmare il dolore?"

_Okay. It hurts, but it's not serious. Can you give me something for the pain?_

Shaun wasn't entirely sure what Desmond/Ezio was saying, but when he moved to get up, swayed, and near collapsed into Shaun's arms, the older man figured he should find some painkillers. He lowered the novice back onto the bed before turning to leave the room.

"Um. Letto. Rimanere," he ordered, before escaping from the room. _Bed. Stay_.

Once outside Shaun sagged back against the wall and sucked down gulps of relatively fresh air. In all honesty, he was terrified. Desmond had shown signs of the bleeding effect before now, but usually they were nowhere near as bad. Usually, Lucy was here to take care of it. Shaun had no idea what to do or even if it could be permanent this time.

_Buck up, Shaun. You're an assassin. What was that about keeping calm under pressure? Don't lose it now. Desmond needs you, Shaun. Only you can help him. If you don't get him through this the whole Assassin Order could collapse. Is that what you want? Stop being such a girl. Get some painkillers, grow a pair and get back in there!_

Shaun took longer than was strictly necessary looking for the drugs, but eventually he found them. He stood with his hand on the door handle and took a deep breath, steeling himself before he went in.

The door swung open and he strode in with exaggerated confidence. He stopped in his tracks, however, when he saw Desmond. The confidence turned to surprise, which quickly became embarrassment in all its cheek-burning, ear-reddening glory.

Desmond was stark naked on the bed, _his_ bed. His arms were folded behind his head and his legs were apart, displaying his flaccid manhood unabashedly. Shaun suddenly became very interested in the light fixture on the ceiling.

There was a long silence whilst Desmond looked at Shaun and Shaun looked at anything but Desmond. Eventually, Desmond sighed disappointedly.

"Che cosa c'è?"

_What's the matter?_

"Uh... Trousers... Pantaloni!" Shaun managed.

"Ma, il mio amore, la mia nudità non ti ha infastidito prima," replied Desmond, smiling cheekily. He shifted slightly to the right, wincing slightly as he did so, and patted the space next to him.

_But, my love, my nakedness has not bothered you before._

"Vieni. Mi fanno sentire meglio, Leo," grinned Desmond.

_Come. Make me feel better, Leo._

Shaun nearly choked. He took one glance at Desmond's leering face and fled.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: This chapter is dedicated to PancaekPirate, my first favouriter, alert-lister and reviewer. Thank you to everyone else that has favourited, reviewed or added this story to their alerts. I really appreciate the support.**

**As of last week's chapter I have officially become a beta reader, so if anyone wants me to do that I'd be glad to.**

**Please don't hesitate to drop me a line telling me if I've done something wrong (for example, I think Lucy may be a little OOC, what do you guys think?) and don't forget, if there's something you'd like to see happen you just have to say and I'll see if I can work it in.**

**Without further ado, I present for your delectation, Chapter Three!**

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><p>"Nice one Shaun," said Rebecca, striding in and plonking down a bag of groceries, "I honestly didn't think you'd manage it."<p>

Shaun looked up from his computer with a look of pure bewilderment.

"Manage what?" he asked, looking confusedly at Rebecca's dirty grin.

Lucy walked in before Rebecca had a chance to reply. She strode over to Shaun and looked down at him with an uncharacteristically cold look in her eyes.

"Would you mind going and waking up Desmond please Shaun? It's his turn to cook dinner tonight. I would go, but I think you'd better do it if you two are seeing each other now." She walked back to her desk without looking at him and sat down behind her computer.

"Wh- I- We- That is to say- I don't-"Shaun blustered. He stopped, took a breath, and glared at Lucy.

"In actual fact, Desmond is an idiot and hurt himself. The reason he's in my bed is because I carried him there to patch him up."

"So why is he naked?" Rebecca asked, grinning lecherously.

Shaun felt his cheeks grow hot, and knew they must have been getting redder by the second. He opened his mouth to tell them about Desmond's funny turn but quickly closed it again. Lucy always stopped work for such a long time when Desmond even showed the slightest hint of the Bleeding Effect. If Shaun told her that Desmond had more or less _become_ Ezio, who knew how long she would shut them down?

"He had a fever and took his clothes off to cool down," Shaun said, and got up to leave before any more could be said. Rebecca's loud guffaw followed him out of the room before the door swung shut and abruptly cut it off.

Shaun took a deep breath and steeled himself to go and check on Desmo- Ezi- whoever the fuck it was, praying to anyone that would listen that the man would be fully clothed, or at the very least have all the vital parts covered up. He had spent the last hour or so brushing up on his Italian, going so far as to turn off the translation feature on his computer. He had picked up a fair amount in his research into the Renaissance, but it was all history and politics related. His... _encounter_ with Desmond that afternoon had made him realise how little practical Italian he actually knew.

Shaun approached his bedroom door and reached for the handle, then jumped out of his skin at a touch on his shoulder.

"Jesus, Lucy, you could have given me a heart attack! And I don't know about you but I don't think that's a very good idea."

"I wanted to know how Desmond was. What happened to him?" replied the blonde, tactfully ignoring Shaun's usual shortness.

"Oh... He had a little accident in the warehouse. He's, well, he'll recover and that's the main point. It won't be long before we can have him back in the Animus, don't you worry."

"I wasn't worried about that, Shaun. Some of us actually care about Desmond. I don't know if you're one of them, but it doesn't matter. You will look after him like he's Ezio Auditore himself, you hear me?"

Shaun nearly choked at Lucy's words, but managed to hide it behind a yawn.

"Yes Lucy," he intoned like a schoolboy, and disappeared into his room before she could make further comment, firmly shutting the door in her face. He heard her huff and stalk off, and smiled grimly. He would be in trouble for that. Still, better face Lucy's displeasure than have her find out what was happening to Desmond.

Desmond. Shaun turned slowly around with his eyes squeezed shut and took a breath before opening them. Desmond was laid on the bed, topless but thankfully wearing jeans once more, engrossed in one of Shaun's books. He looked up and grunted his welcome to the historian, before going back to his book.

Shaun took an uneasy step forward.

"Desmond?"

"Who else is it gonna be, Shaun? Jeez."

Shaun breathed a long sigh of relief, then his brow creased as he belatedly registered the sarcasm in Desmond's voice.

"You must be feeling better already, Desmond, otherwise you wouldn't be behaving like such a prick. I just saved your ungrateful arse, in case you'd forgotten."

Desmond sighed and put down his book, wincing slightly at the movement.

"I haven't forgotten. Thank you, Shaun."

Taken aback by the American's sudden sincerity, Shaun felt his temper bubble away. "You're welcome," he mumbled, and sank into his armchair.

"So, how are you feeling?" he said, after a long silence.

"Well, I'm pretty sure I've got a couple of cracked ribs, and these stitches keep pulling – not that I'm complaining about them," he added, catching Shaun's look.

"What about the, the Ezio thing?" asked the Brit, avoiding Desmond's eye.

"What, the bleeding effect? Haven't had it since the fall. As long as I avoid climbing in high places there shouldn't be a problem... As long as we don't mention it to Lucy," he said, with a sideways glance and a trace of a smile.

Shaun was silent for a moment. The incident of that afternoon was different to the usual bleeding effect. Usually, Desmond was still himself and was still at least semi-aware of his surroundings. That afternoon it was like he was possessed, channelling the personality of his ancestor. It was possible, and seemed likely given Desmond's comment, that the novice was not aware of what had happened. This left Shaun with a considerable dilemma. As much as he was loathe to relive the moment, he felt like he should talk to Desmond about it. On the other hand, the man seemed fine now, so where was the need to go back over it? It would only be embarrassing, and would increase the chances of having to halt work in the Animus, which Shaun felt was too important and too urgent to abandon for any length of time.

"No, good idea, don't say anything to girls. As far as they're concerned you're just an idiot who fell from the roof," he said eventually.

"Right," agreed Desmond.

There was a long, awkward pause as both men realised that this was probably the longest conversation they had had alone, without descending into childish fighting and name calling. They shuffled and coughed uncomfortably as men are wont to do when faced with such situations. Eventually, Desmond broke the silence.

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry about calling you... what I called you this morning. Turns out you're not a bad guy after all."

"Thanks, mate. I suppose you're not all bad yourself... Look, don't let this get out but I don't actually hate you. I guess I just take out my frustration on you because you were lucky enough to stumble into a job I would kill to be able to do. I suppose that doesn't mean much coming from an Assassin though," Shaun added, with a rueful smile. He hadn't looked at Desmond once throughout his speech, and now he looked up to find the younger man staring at him with a gaze so intense it made him even more uncomfortable than he already was.

"Er, what's the matter Des?"

"What? Oh, nothing, nothing. It just seems like I had a dream about you or something, but I can't quite remember."

"Steady on mate," said Shaun, "I didn't even know you swung that way," he added with a nervous laugh, trying to break the tension with humour, something he unfortunately had never been good at.

"Don't get your panties in a bunch, Shaun," laughed Desmond, thankful for the lighter tone, "when I _do _go for men, they aren't usually scrawny bookworms, so I'd say you're safe," he winked playfully at the man and was surprised to see him blush furiously, the red travelling all the way to the tips of his ears.

"I, uh, well, I didn't- Not that there's anything wrong with- I mean-"Shaun was lost for words for the second time that day. "Oh, bloody hell," he said, and buried his head in his hands.

Desmond couldn't stop himself and burst into raucous laughter, wincing slightly as his stitches pulled. The novice's laugh was infectious, and before long the two men were laughing uncontrollably, completely at ease with each other for the first time and finding they quite enjoyed the feeling.

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><p><strong>AN: That's all folks! Bit of a filler chapter this week but I wasn't quite sure where I was going with it. See you all next week, I hope! Lots of love, Eden x**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I wasn't sure if you guys would get notified when I replaced my little 'delayed' message with the real chapter, so I've updated this as a new chapter. If someone could let me know if you did or didn't get told, that would be helpful for the future :)**

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><p>An easy few days passed, the atmosphere more relaxed than ever before. Everyone was glad to have a break to let Desmond recover, though Shaun couldn't keep away for long and threw himself into work with the other teams, whilst continually moaning at Lucy to get Desmond back in the Animus. Rebecca took the opportunity to give Baby some much needed TLC, and Lucy spent her time alternating between fretting over work she couldn't complete yet and fretting over Desmond.<p>

Desmond, for his part, did almost nothing. He milked the situation for all it was worth, making Shaun bring him cups of tea and sending him out to try and find DVDs in English. He ordered the girls around too, but they were quick to tell him where he could stick his increasingly outrageous demands. For some reason unbeknownst to the rest of them, Shaun was being oddly compliant.

Shaun's reasoning went thusly; the more he did for Desmond, the more time he could spend with him without arousing too much suspicion. The more time he spent with Desmond, the more he could look out for signs of what he had dubbed 'The Ezio Effect' and so keep him away from the girls, especially Lucy, if it happened again.

So far, there had been a fair few instances of the standard bleeding effect; in fact, the frequency of Desmond's little 'trips' had more or less doubled since before the fall and was steadily increasing. The Ezio effect, however, hadn't surfaced again and Shaun held out hopes that it wouldn't, that it was just a side effect of the fall and was a onetime thing.

At the same time, there was a little niggling thought at the back of his mind that being able to talk to Ezio wouldn't be a bad thing. It would reduce the time they needed to spend in the Animus for one, and it would give them an immense advantage over the Templars. Imagine being able to just ask him anything, instead of having to replay his whole life and find the answers for themselves.

Still... he wasn't sure if he could handle another encounter with Ezio. He had had his suspicions about Ezio and Leonardo, and there had been a few hints in the sequences they had accessed, but there had been no conclusive proof until Ezio had thought him to be Leonardo and had... exposed himself so readily.

He wondered if Desmond knew. What was it like in the Animus? Did Desmond feel Ezio's emotions? Did he get a dry mouth and sweaty palms, that jolt in the pit of his stomach, every time he visited the inventor? Did he feel the dull ache in his chest all the time they were apart? For all the time he spent talking about the memories and the events he relived through Desmond, not once did he ask him what it felt like. Had he been keeping this secret the whole time?

"Shaun, you've been staring at me for like a half an hour, you alright man?"

"What? Oh, sorry Desmond, mate..."

Desmond paused the DVD he had been watching and turned to face Shaun.

"Spill it. You're never quiet this long unless you're thinking about something important."

"No it's nothing, Des. You carry on with your film. I was just daydreaming, that's all."

"Shaun, I know you a lot better than you think I do, and I know when something's up. Now are you gonna spill it or am I gonna have to beat it out of you?"

Shaun looked uncomfortable for a moment, then sighed. Here goes nothing.

"Listen, Desmond, I want to talk to you about something... Have you, I mean, when you, in the Animus, do you-"

The door swung open and Lucy bounded into the room, clearly in a great mood. She carried a bottle of local wine, strong stuff if Shaun remembered correctly, and three glasses which she quickly filled and handed out.

"Paul's team came back safe," she announced, plonking herself down next to Desmond on the bed (she had made Shaun give Desmond his room whilst he recovered, so that he could have some quiet whilst he rested. Shaun had actually suggested this to Desmond anyway so that he could hide more of his bleeding effect trips, but he let her think it was her idea to allay suspicion and moaned about it from time to time, just in case.)

"Rebecca's having a video chat with Paul at the moment, so she kicked me out, and I came in here to celebrate. What are we watching?" she asked, picking up the remote and pressing play. Leonardo DiCaprio's face re-animated itself and smiled, and that was that for the next hour or so.

By the time the film was finished the wine was gone, the second bottle Shaun had been sent to fetch from the kitchen was gone, and everyone was in tears. Desmond had his arm around Lucy and was comforting her as she sobbed, trying to hide the emotion in his own eyes. Shaun excused himself for a moment, claiming an over-full bladder, and went to dry his eyes.

In the bathroom, Shaun took a moment to splash some water on his face and try and hide the fact that he was indeed a big girl's blouse who cried at silly films. He stopped by Rebecca's room on his way back but she was still discussing things with Paul and his team, so went back to Desmond's room.

Shaun pushed the door open, sending a beam of light across the bed. Desmond and Lucy were laid upon it, limbs entangled, enthusiastically making out. They didn't notice Shaun, who closed the door and retreated into the empty workroom.

He wasn't quite sure how he felt about what he had seen. Begrudgingly, he found himself warming to Desmond; it was nice to have some male company not on the other end of a computer message, even if he was a lazy American idiot. He had always been friendly with Lucy, too. Really, he should be glad that at least they were able to find some comfort in each other and not be as lonely as he was. Still, he couldn't find it in himself to be happy for them.

He threw himself down on his computer chair and started to read his messages, brooding over Desmond and Lucy and trying to work out what made him so angry about it. And he was angry, he realised. What gave them the right to jeopardise the mission by getting all lovey-dovey? Imagine if one of them was caught by the Templars! Chaos! They were really very selfish. He had a mind to go in there and break it up himself. But then Desmond would hate him and Lucy would sulk and where would that get them?

Shaun realised he hadn't read a single e-mail in the 10 minutes he had been sat there. He shut off his computer and stomped off in search of more alcohol.

* * *

><p>The clock was just striking 4am when Desmond woke up with an urgent need to relieve himself and a pounding headache to boot. He rubbed his eyes and sat up a little, and in doing so dislodged an arm from his chest. Lucy's arm. Lucy's naked arm.<p>

Desmond groaned. He hadn't intended for this to happen. He liked Lucy, and of course she was beautiful, but he wasn't sure he felt about her _that_ way. Besides, they had always made it clear between the four of them that the Assassins came first; any... fraternisation could wait until they had the Templars beat and had some time to themselves.

But then, they were celebrating. Paul's team had been thought dead for weeks and now they had turned up fine, and everyone was elated. Of course, the wine had helped. The wine had told him that it would all be ok. The wine knew how lonely he was, how in need of sexual gratification he had become, and had convinced him that sleeping with Lucy wasn't going to be complicated.

Desmond groaned again, but not too loudly, and disentangled himself from Lucy's slim form. There would be trouble, no doubt, but right now he needed a piss and some aspirin. He grabbed his boxers just in case anyone else was still up and made his way to the bathroom.

Light shone down the corridor from the cracks around the bathroom door and an awful retching noise followed it. Desmond tiptoed closer and gently pushed the door open to see Shaun on all fours, releasing the contents of his stomach into the toilet bowl. He watched as the Brit finished heaving, wiped his mouth, and then washed down the remnants of his dinner with Jack Daniels from the bottle.

"Whoa, looks like you've had enough of that," said Desmond, quickly retrieving the bottle from Shaun. He located the stopper, which was for some reason in the medicine cabinet, and placed the bottle out of Shaun's reach.

"Come on Des, don't be such a sssspoil-sport," said Shaun, swaying slightly as he stood and punctuating his sentence with a small hiccup.

Desmond sighed. He hadn't known Shaun to drink more than a glass or two of wine in all the time he had spent at the hideout, and now he knew why. Shaun obviously couldn't handle his drink. He said as much.

"Ffffuck you, Desmond! At least I don't jump into, into bed with with with the first girl I see after a few glazzes of wine!" slurred Shaun, still gently swaying where he stood.

Desmond knew enough not to respond. Instead, he slipped an arm around Shaun and supported his lean frame as he guided him out of the bathroom and towards the workroom, where the historian had now taken up residency. It was an arduous task, but eventually Desmond was able to steer him to bed and pull the sheet over him.

"Stay there," he ordered, "I'm gonna take a piss, and then I'll get you some water, ok?"

Shaun mumbled something incoherent which Desmond ignored, then went to sort himself out. When he returned, Shaun had taken off his vomit-stained pullover and was trying to fold it, but only succeeding in tangling himself up in it. He looked up as Desmond came in with both hands tangled in the sleeves.

"Fucking buggering shitty wanking arsehole jumper!" he said, and Desmond burst out laughing before setting down the water and trying to free him from the clutches of the evil sweater. When he had finished, he sat back on the edge of the bed and handed Shaun the water, trying hard not to smirk.

Shaun downed the water in one, made a face, then looked at Desmond.

"You're not wearing much," he observed.

"No," agreed Desmond.

"At least you're not naked again."

Desmond raised an amused eyebrow.

"Again?"

"Yeah. The other day, when you were Ezio. You were naked then."

"When I was.. Shaun, I think you need to go to sleep."

"No I'm serious. The other day. When you fell down and knocked yourself out, you bloody idiot. When you woke up you were Ezio. You kept calling me Leo. And then when I came back in you were naked."

Desmond had no idea what Shaun was talking about and dismissed it as the ramblings of a drunk man. Something was niggling at the back of his mind, however. He knew that Ezio and Leo were an item, but he was sure none of the rest of the team did. Why would Shaun think that Ezio would get naked for Leo? Did he know? How could he?

"Shaun..." he said slowly, "what are you talking about?"

"Jesus Desmond, you really are thick sometimes. The Ezio Effect. Well, the bleeding effect really but y'know. I wasn't gonna tell you but I kinda already have, haven't I? Look, you were unconscious. And then, and then, and then when you woke up you were kind of sort of _Ezio_. Like, you _became _him. I even said 'Ezio?' and you were like 'Si?' And you rambled off a bunch of shit in Italian and then I got you some painkillers and then I came back in and you were naked and you said more shit in Italian and called me Leo a few more times and then I... went again."

As Desmond listened, he realised he had a dim memory of events as Shaun had described them. It was like trying to remember a dream, every time he grasped a detail the rest would float out of reach. It was different to a dream though. He remembered seeing it through his own eyes, but not being in control of his body. He remembered a sort of trapped, helpless feeling. He remembered being naked.

"That's... that's a nice story, Shaun, but I think you better go to sleep now, ok? It's late. I'll see you in the morning."

Desmond left the room and climbed back into bed, barely even noticing Lucy as she mumbled something in her sleep and wound her arm back around him. He lay awake for a long time, until daylight crept in and the sound of birds singing drifted faintly through the air.

_Oh, shit._

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Sorry guys, like I said I haven't had much time to myself this week so I pretty much pulled this out of my arse today. I'm so sorry it's late and I appreciate not having any nasty comments.  
>As usual if you think there's anything I need to work on or if you have any suggestions for plot please PM me or review me and I'll see what I can do.<strong>

**See you next week!**

**Lots of love,**

**Eden x**


	5. Chapter 5

Shaun felt awful. He hadn't had a hangover this bad since University. He blamed Desmond.

He took a sip of his coffee, located his headset, slipped it on and jumped as Rebecca's voice sounded in his ear. Obviously she had forgotten to turn her mic off. He raised his hand to turn on his own mic and let her know, but stopped as he listened to their conversation.

"Well, I think you may have given him the wrong impression by leaving him to wake up alone. Did you talk about it or did it just happen?"

Lucy had remembered to turn her own mic off and so her reply was lost to Shaun.

"I know, I know. You have to talk to Desmond, see what he wants. I've gotta admit though Luce, I don't think it's a good idea."

A pause as Lucy responded.

"Well, it was _you_ who said, right from the beginning, that we couldn't let relationships get in the way of the mission, even if we developed feelings for one another. And think about it like this, you were both in a place where you needed a bit of lovin', and that's what you got, even if nothing more comes out of this."

There was a long pause, then Rebecca sighed and there was an odd muffled sound which Shaun took to mean that they were hugging.

"So, that's you and Des got some. Reckon I should try and hook up with Shaun?" Rebecca asked.

Shaun choked and almost pulled off his headset, but stopped himself.

"Well, he's got that adorable British accent, for one. Not so sure about the sweaters he wears, but I guess he wouldn't be wearing one, would he?"

Rebecca laughed loudly, almost deafening Shaun, who had gone very red in the face.

"I thought that too! It was only when he dated that Kate chick that I changed my mind. Although, he never got very far with her... Maybe she was his cover!"

Shaun suddenly decided that he didn't like eavesdropping anymore. He took his headset off and threw it on the desk before turning his attention to the computer.

* * *

><p>Shaun got maybe half an hour of peace before he was interrupted by Desmond.<p>

"Hey, uh, Shaun?"

"What is it, Desmond? In case you hadn't noticed, I'm a little busy here." _Not to mention that I have the worst hangover of my entire life, no thanks to you._

"I was thinking, the girls will be out all day, right?"

"Where are you going with this, Desmond? I don't have time for games."

"Do you think I could use the Animus? I've got something I want to follow up on... in private."

Shaun was taken aback for a moment. Desmond wanted to work when he didn't have to? Was he dreaming? He mentally shrugged.

"I'm not your mother, you don't need my permission. If you think you're ready to go back in, go right ahead. I won't peek."

"Promise?"

"Of course I promise, you idiot. I wouldn't have said it otherwise, would I?"

"Thanks, Shaun," replied Desmond, before crossing the room and laying back in the Animus. He had already decided not to mention anything that had happened last night unless Shaun brought it up himself.

The conversation he had had with Shaun played heavily on his mind and he was almost afraid of going back into the Animus, but he had thought about it all night and decided that seeing as the Ezio thing had only happened once, he should be okay. Especially as he was pulled out of the Animus abruptly before, and that definitely wouldn't happen this time.

The... _other_ thing that happened last night was also playing on his mind, but he dismissed it out of hand. Lucy hadn't said anything before or after it happened, and she had left him before he woke up that morning, so he assumed she saw it as he did – a onetime thing.

"Oh, Desmond?" called Shaun over his shoulder, fingers still tapping away at his keyboard.

"Yeah?"

"Just... be careful, alright? Don't overdo it."

Now it was Desmond's turn to be taken aback. Was Shaun really expressing concern? It just went to show how their friendship had been developing lately.

"Aw, Shaun, I didn't know you cared," teased Desmond, playfully grinning at the Brit.

"I don't. Lucy would kill me if you hurt yourself again."

Desmond's grin fell from his face and he connected himself to the Animus in silence.

* * *

><p>Shaun was a naturally curious person. It was what had led him to find out about Abstergo, what had ultimately led him to the Assassins. It was a part of his nature as much as it was that he preferred coffee without milk, or that he liked the colour brown. This meant that whilst he had promised not to peek at the Animus screen, he was very <em>very<em> curious as to what Desmond had wanted to relive - _in private._

He busied himself with tactical support dockets for another ten minutes, just long enough for Desmond to get really settled in, before his curiosity overcame him. He spun on his chair to look at the novice where he lay peacefully on the Animus seat.

He ought to just check on Desmond, hadn't he? The man hadn't been back in the Animus since his fall, which he was still recovering from, so he was bound to be weaker than usual. Shaun got up and crossed over to Desmond, unconsciously using his Assassin training to be silent as he did so.

Desmond looked calm and peaceful, his face smooth of his usual worry lines or other imperfections. His jaws were slack and his lips slightly apart, mouthing the ghosts of Italian words from time to time. His eyes roved lightly under his eyelids. His chest rose and fell in a gentle rhythm.

Well, he _seemed_ fine, but it would be just as well to check the Animus screen for his vitals, wouldn't it? Shaun tiptoed around Desmond and seated himself in Rebecca's usual place before the Animus. Desmond's vitals were displayed on the screen, utterly healthy and normal.

Shaun moved his arm for no apparent reason and oh, look at that, he had accidentally brushed against the mouse and now the vitals screen had been replaced by the active memory. Well, he ought to watch to make sure Desmond was okay. A traumatic memory might unstabilize him. He had better listen, too, just to make sure.

_Ezio was running across the rooftops as fast as he could possibly go, an entire platoon of soldiers following him both on ground and above it. He skittered across a loose tile and almost fell, but at the last moment a hand grasped his – it was Antonio. Ezio shot him a quick look of thanks before scrambling back up and taking flight again, the thief close on his heels._

_They leapt across streets from rooftop to rooftop, gradually gaining on their pursuers until eventually they were alone. They made their way back to the thieves' guild in silence, each keeping a watchful eye out for guards. They encountered no-one until they were safely seated in Antonio's office._

"_I cannot thank you enough, Antonio. I am overtired, not at my best. If it were not for you, I probably would not have survived that little escapade."_

"_Think nothing of it, amico mio. It is just lucky that I was around to help you. You are alright?"_

"_Fine, fine. Just a little curious. Why were you up there?"_

"_I could ask you the same thing," replied the thief with an enigmatic smile._

_Ezio laughed in response, paused, then drew a heavy parchment envelope from the folds of his robes and placed it on the table between them._

"This _is why I was there," he said._

_Antonio had barely moved a hand to reach for the envelope when a figure detached itself from the shadows. The person was hooded and it was unclear if they were male or female. Whoever it was, they were holding a loaded crossbow in each hand and pointed one at each of the men._

"_I'll take that," said a voice, as another figure revealed itself._

_Ezio moved with lightening reflexes, grabbing a throwing knife and spinning it into the second figure's chest. Before he could throw a second knife, the first figure fired. Ezio managed to move and the arrow missed its target, his heart. He wasn't quite fast enough, however. The arrow ripped through his shoulder instead, knocking him to the floor as he cried out in agony._

Desmond cried out at the same time as Ezio and Shaun jumped out of his skin, pulling his headset from the socket. He scrambled to plug it back in and in doing so accidentally pushed the emergency stop button. The Animus came to a sudden halt, every light and meter on it going dark within a second.

Desmond's eyes flew open and he jolted upright, then bent forward, wincing as he put pressure on his ribs (which were bruised, not cracked, as Shaun frequently reminded him) and vomited onto the floor. When he had finished he looked up to see Shaun, caught in the act of retreating to his desk. He smiled sheepishly.

"You alright, mate?"

Desmond simply groaned and slumped back into his chair, feeling dizzy and nauseous with a pounding headache to boot. Not only that, there was _something _happening to him. It was as if he was drifting away from his own body. It became hard to think, as if his thoughts were being dragged through thick mud before they got to him. His vision started to blur.

"Des, mate?" Shaun said, stepping closer, a worried crease forming between his brows.

Desmond opened his eyes and clutched at Shaun's shirt, pulling him down level with his face.

"Shaun," he whispered, panic in his eyes, "I can feel something happening. Stay with me, please. Say my name, talk to me, do anything. Just don't leave me."

"It's alright, Des. I'm here. I won't leave you, I promise," said Shaun, starting to panic himself now.

Desmond nodded and let go of Shaun as he sagged back down into the seat, losing consciousness before his head touched the fabric.

Shaun swore loudly as Desmond fainted, then raced round to look at the Animus screen. Desmond was still connected and his vitals showed as stable; Shaun breathed a sigh of relief and started to disconnect him.

Once that was done, Shaun found himself hauling the young Assassin into his arms for the second time that week. He carried him over to his old bed and placed him gently upon it, muttering comforting nothings just in case Desmond could hear him.

He straightened up and looked down at his charge, marvelling at how peaceful he looked when God-knows-what was happening inside his mind. What was it he had said before? Like Michelangelo's David come to life. Except less naked. This time.

Shaun's computer beeped and he took a step towards it, then stopped. He looked back at Desmond, unconscious on the bed. That message could be urgent. But he had promised to stay with Desmond. He looked between the two once more, deliberating.

Slowly, he crossed the room and clicked his mouse twice. Then he wheeled his computer chair across to Desmond's bedside, listening to the oddly cheerful little jingle as the machine shut itself down.

"It's alright, Des. I'm here. I won't leave you."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I've re-written this chapter about a hundred times this week and I'm still not happy with it, but it's Thursday and I promised I'd be on time. I hope you guys enjoyed it. Any feedback will be greatly appreciated and, as always, if you have something you would like me to include, just let me know.**

**I'm a little concerned as to the pacing of this story. Is it going too slowly for you, or is it all in my head? Let me know.**

**Eden out.**

**Love x**


	6. Chapter 6

Desmond was unconscious for a long while, giving Shaun time to think. Shaun had been doing a lot of thinking lately, most of it involving Desmond. He wanted to hate the man so much, but it was a difficult thing to hate someone who was so pleasant to you. In spite of himself, he actually was starting to _care_ about the idiot. What was that about?

Seriously, what was happening to him? He had _ignored a message _in order to keep his promise to Desmond. Shaun never ignored messages. He was too important to the Assassin order to ignore messages. People relied on him to read those messages and act on them. But he had made the decision. He had decided that he cared more about Desmond than the other teams. He had ignored the message so that he could sit at Desmond's bedside and watch him until he woke up (not to mention clean up his vomit.)

It was guilt, he decided. Guilt and nothing more. He ignored the little voice that reminded him how he had rushed to Desmond's aid the week before, how he had stuck to him ever since, how he had taken it upon himself to fulfil Desmond's every whim whilst he recovered, and pushed it down inside himself where it was too deep to be heard. He pushed it into the depths of his soul, to the place where all his darkest secrets were kept, boiling beneath the surface where even his own mind feared to go, and let it be covered by layers of common sense, logic and excuses.

It was just guilt.

* * *

><p>Desmond gripped Shaun around his neck and slammed him into the workroom wall. He was breathing hard, face no more than an inch from the Brit's. Shaun said nothing; just bore his eyes into Desmond's. His face was flushed and his glasses slightly askew.<p>

Without warning, hand still around Shaun's neck, Desmond kissed him. He crushed their lips together in a rough, frantic kiss. Shaun's hands fumbled at his hoodie, but Desmond wasn't having it. _He _was in charge, now. He moved with lightening reflexes to grab both of Shaun's wrists and smash them into the wall above his head. He growled at Shaun; a low, instinctive, animal sound. Shaun laughed, ghosting warm breath across Desmond's ear.

Desmond kissed him again, rougher and more urgently. His hands trailed down Shaun's arms, down his chest, along his hips. He grabbed the hem of Shaun's shirt-sweater _thing _and tugged it off in one fluid motion, exposing the other man's hair-covered chest. To do so he had to break the kiss, which Shaun wasn't happy about. The older man threw himself at the younger, wrapping his arms around him and pressing their lips together.

Shaun quickly took control, manoeuvring them to face the other way. Then it was his turn to slam Desmond into the wall, which he did with gusto. He kissed him, moved his lips to trace along his jaw, down his neck; the hoodie was in his way, it had to go.

"Off, take it off," Shaun breathed into Desmond's neck, moving his hands to fumble urgently with his jeans as the novice complied with his orders.

Desmond was naked within a minute, toned body quivering with excitement and erection standing proud. He pulled at Shaun's belt with almost trembling fingers, wanting to go faster than his hands would let him.

Shaun slapped his hands away impatiently and removed his trousers himself, flinging them across the room in his urgency. Desmond was pleased to learn, and was very turned on by the fact, he realised, that Shaun was going commando. He practically pounced on the man, kissing him and caressing him and trailing his hand closer and closer until finally he was able to grip the Brit's pulsing manhood. He gave it a few quick strokes, enough to elicit a sigh, before kneeling to take it in his mouth.

"Ahh, merda," groaned Shaun as Desmond's tongue swirled around his tip.

Desmond wasn't listening properly, otherwise he might have thought Shaun's choice of language unusual. Blood was rushing through his ears. Enough of this – he looked around for his jeans, his wallet, his condom.

There were no jeans. Instead, Desmond clutched Assassin robes in his hand. Looking up in confusion he saw tables, papers, wooden models and a room as familiar as the back of his hand. Utterly bewildered he looked around for Shaun, but instead there stood the infamous Leonardo da Vinci, totally naked and looking down at him with concern.

"Ezio? Qual è il problema?"

"Oh, no. Shaun? Shaun! Help me, Shaun!"

Desmond stumbled backwards, wide-eyed, repeatedly muttering Shaun's name. He tripped, fell and scrambled backwards. When he looked back up, his surroundings had changed again; a middle eastern Assassin Bureau confronted him, complete with the confused-looking figure of Malik Al-Sayf towering over him.

"Altaïr?"

"No! No, I'm Desmond!" cried Desmond, really starting to panic now. What the _fuck_ was happening to him?

"Shaun, please, I need you! Shaun!" shouted the novice, scrambling to his feet and starting to run as fast as he could. He climbed up out of the Bureau into nothingness. Blackness stretched out in all directions. Then, suddenly, he was falling, his last cry for Shaun following him as he tumbled into the abyss.

* * *

><p>Shaun jerked sharply awake. Someone had called his name. Had Lucy and Rebecca come home already? How long had he been asleep?<p>

"Shaun," muttered Desmond, still unconscious, "Shaun, Shaun, Shaun, ShaunShaunShaun..."

Shaun automatically moved to kneel beside Desmond, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm here, Des, don't you worry. I'm here." He had no idea how Desmond was being affected. He had no idea what to do. For all his brains and skill as an Assassin, he was starting to realise just how fucking useless he was. Desmond was in trouble and he couldn't do a thing.

"No! No, I'm Desmond!" cried the novice, starting to shake and move his limbs haphazardly.

"That's right, you're Desmond. You keep hold of that," said Shaun reassuringly, worry and guilt churning in his gut. "Desmond, you're Desmond," he repeated, hoping against hope that it would help.

"Shaun, please, I need you! Shaun!"

Shaun was so frustrated. The one thing he wanted most in the world right now was to be able to help Desmond, and all he could do was try and hold down his arms and legs in case he hurt himself in his animus-induced delirium - which was Shaun's fault in the first place. He felt awful. He had to do _something._ Anything.

Shaun did the first thing that came into his mind. He found the emergency medical kit under the bed and shot Desmond with a syringe of Abstergo's patented knock-out drug, something Lucy had liberated on her escape. He watched as Desmond stopped flailing, his eyes stopped roving under their lids and his breathing returned to a normal, steady pace. Then he knelt by the bedside once more and took Desmond's pulse. Normal. Shaun breathed a sigh of relief. Hopefully returning Desmond to this state would do a sort of reset on his system and he would wake up as good as new. Hopefully.

Shaun sank down to lean on the mattress, still clutching Desmond's hand. It felt wrong to let him go. He traced small circles on Desmond's olive skin as he closed his eyes and reflected on the last few minutes. He had never been so worried in his life. The thought of Desmond in danger had affected him in a way he wasn't sure he understood.

And then there was Desmond himself. Whatever had been happening inside the man's head, Desmond had called for Shaun in his time of need. He hadn't wanted Lucy, his lover, or Rebecca, his confidante. He had wanted _him._ Shaun. The thought filled him with warmth and confusion in equal parts.

Eventually he dismissed it altogether and started going over tactical support dockets in his mind, keeping himself occupied so he didn't have the capacity to dwell on Desmond, all the while unconsciously tracing patterns on the soft skin of the other man's hand as if it were the most natural action in the world.

* * *

><p>Desmond woke slowly, senses coming back to him one by one. His head felt like it was stuffed with cotton wool and his mouth felt like sandpaper. He blinked a few times and looked around him, thoroughly disorientated.<p>

He was in the workroom, in his old bed. He didn't remember how he had got there. The last thing he could remember doing was hooking himself up to the Animus. How had he ended up here? What time was it?

He went to move his hand, to look at his watch, but something was holding on to him. Desmond looked down and saw Shaun, knelt in what looked like a very uncomfortable position with his head on the mattress. He was fast asleep, clutching Desmond's hand in both of his own.

Desmond frowned. Something must have happened in the Animus, and Shaun had taken care of him. Again. It was beginning to become a habit. He wondered why Shaun even cared. They got on well enough but it had always been clear that Desmond wasn't the Brit's favourite person in the world. Why would he bother busting his ass to look after him when he obviously had better things to do? Why would he stay by his bedside, holding his hand like that?

Desmond shrugged to himself, then winced. His shoulders ached like he had been weight training. In fact, once Desmond had registered the pain from his shoulders he realised that _all_ of his muscles were aching. He didn't remember doing any exercise.

He put it down to sleeping funny and tried to sit up, gently prising his hand out of Shaun's. It felt like it took him a long time. There seemed to be a delay between his brain telling his body to move and his body actually doing so, and then when it did, it was sluggish.

Eventually Desmond was able to swing around and drop his legs over the side of the bed. He shook his head to try and clear it from the fuzziness of sleep, and then stood up. He balanced for a few moments and took almost a full step before he overbalanced and crashed down onto the floor, face-first.

Shaun jolted awake and looked around wildly for the source of the noise. He saw that Desmond's bed was empty and started to panic before he saw the figure of the young Assassin lying on the floor. He rushed over to him and helped him back onto the bed, then sat down next to him, using both hands to keep him steady. He breathed a long sigh of relief.

"You're finally awake," said Shaun, smiling despite himself.

Desmond tried to reply, but no words came out. He made a sound like 'muuuuuuuh' before closing his mouth and looking askance at Shaun, who was looking a little rough, he noticed. The historian looked like he hadn't shaved in days and had large dark semi-circles under his eyes. His clothes were crumpled and his shirt was untucked on one side. Desmond opened his mouth to tell Shaun how awful he looked, but his words morphed into incomprehensible garbage before they left his mouth.

"I thought this might happen," said Shaun, running a hand through his hair. "Let me start from the beginning."

Shaun explained to Desmond everything that had happened with infallible accuracy. He was totally honest about everything he had done, including spying on Desmond, throwing him out of the Animus, and shooting him full of drugs, which had knocked him out for five days straight. He spoke with a self-depreciating air, berating himself for the way he had acted. He had clearly been feeling guilty and was punishing himself much more harshly than Desmond would have done.

He explained about the drug, and how it had been designed by Abstergo for kidnapping 'subjects' and transporting them to HQ without them waking up, and how weak they would be when they finally regained consciousness, so that they would be more likely to comply. He also said that it could take a long time for the effects to fully wear off, if at all, as the drug was largely untested.

"I figured it's what they would have used on you before, when they kidnapped you from the bar, and you turned out all right after that. The thing is, Lucy didn't tell me that what she had taken from Abstergo was a new version of the drug, stronger and slightly different. I didn't know it would affect you the way it has. I wouldn't have injected you at all but you were calling out for help and I couldn't think of anything else to do. I thought that if I could send you back to a neutral state, it might wipe out whatever the animus had done to you..."

Shaun trailed off and looked down at his hands where they lay in his lap, fidgeting nervously.

Desmond had listened carefully, struggling to take in the details, groggy as he was. He thought he understood, though, and he didn't blame Shaun. What would he have done in his position? He sure as hell wouldn't have had the intelligence or the courage to drug Shaun, which he thought was probably the best thing the historian could have done.

He tried to tell Shaun this, but only managed a muffled "Sggghhhn." Instead, he reached out a wobbly hand to take hold of Shaun's and gave it a reassuring little squeeze, to let him know he understood and didn't mind. Shaun looked at him and gave a faint smile, then stood up and brushed himself down.

"I know you've been out for a few days but try and get some rest, yeah? I'll go tell Lucy and Rebecca you're awake." And with another little half-smile, he was gone.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: So... this was little overdue, huh? I've had a lot of things keeping me from you in the past month, the details of which I won't bore you with, but if I'm honest the biggest block was me. It wasn't until I got a lovely review from Sporks Love this morning that I got the jolt I needed to stop moping about and actually write something, which I did. I hope it tickles your fancy.**

**From now on I won't be able to keep to my old one-a-week schedule, but I'm going to try and make sure I leave it a lot less than a month before my next update.**

**As always, constructive criticism is welcomed, as are plot suggestions/requests and beta-reading.**

**A big, uncomfortably-long hug to you all,**

**Eden**

**x**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

Desmond drifted into a deep, strength restoring sleep almost as soon as Shaun left him, the small amount of movement having exhausted him. He awoke much later to find his three companions sitting nearby, talking just quietly enough that he only caught the odd word. He heard his name many times. Most of the conversation seemed to be taking place between Rebecca and Lucy, whilst Shaun sat looking at the floor and murmuring monosyllabic responses when required.

Desmond stirred, slowly trying to ease himself into a sitting position. Shaun, the only one facing him, noticed the movement and was at his bedside in seconds, leaving Rebecca mid speech.

"Des, how are you feeling?" asked Shaun, concern radiating from him.

"Muuuh. 'M okay," managed Desmond.

Shaun visibly sagged with relief. "He's okay," he said to the girls, who had just joined him by the bed.

"Was beginning to think you were a goner," said Rebecca, sitting herself by his feet, "welcome back."

"Yeah, welcome back, Des," murmured Lucy.

"Th-thanks," said Desmond, looking round at them all. He was struck by how tired they all looked, as if they hadn't slept in a week. Shaun looked the worst, the lack of a shave making him appear more bedraggled than the girls, who had at least kept up with their own personal hygiene.

The thought occurred that obviously he hadn't been shaving, either. He reached up to touch his face and felt a week's worth of fuzz crowding his chin. Better get rid of that.. as soon as he could stand. As he moved his arm, but felt a tugging sensation in his hand. Looking down he realised that there was a tube sticking out of him. Following the tube up he saw that he had been connected to an IV drip. Had that been there when he had woken up before? He couldn't remember.

Shaun coughed. "You, um, you needed sustenance somehow and you wouldn't wake up, so I, ahem.."

"He snuck into the hospital and stole you an IV," grinned Rebecca, looking amused and kind of proud.

"Yes, well," muttered Shaun, fidgeting uncomfortably. "I have the most medical training out of the three of us so I had to sort you out, didn't I?" he said. _Not to mention that this was all my fault, or the fact that for some reason I seem to care about you too much to let you suffer, _he added internally.

"I was changing the needle and dressing before when I, erm, fell asleep, which is why it wasn't there when you woke up the other day," he continued, ears inexplicably reddening.

Desmond looked at Shaun in astonishment. He knew that they had been getting closer lately, but surely Shaun didn't care _that_ much? The thought that he might made Desmond feel a little warmer inside, but he pushed that away. He had too much else to deal with.

Wait, had Shaun said when he woke up _the other day? _He blinked up at the older man in dismay.

Shaun seemed to understand and gave him a rueful smile.

"Yeah, mate. You were out for another couple of days. Hopefully should be able to stay awake a bit longer now, though. You look better," he said, a little awkwardly.

"'M okay," Desmond repeated, clinging on to the one sentence as it was the only thing he knew he could say properly at the moment.

Gently, slowly, aware that everyone was silently watching him, he swung his legs out of bed. There was another tugging sensation… somewhere else. He felt himself getting hot about the cheeks and avoided looking at anyone, especially Shaun. Someone had fitted a catheter, too. Had it been Shaun? He just said he had the most medical training, so it would make sense for him to have done it. Surely not?

"Who, uh," he made a weak gesture towards his private area, still avoiding eye contact.

"Oh, that was me," said Lucy. "I thought it would be best if I did it, considering…" she trailed off.

Desmond, for some reason, felt a little disappointed. So Shaun hadn't cared _that_ much after all.

The novice took hold of the bedframe and hefted himself onto wobbly legs. He swayed and would have fallen had Shaun not jumped to his aid, slipping an arm around him and taking the majority of his weight.

"Woah, careful mate," said Shaun. "Walk before you can run and all that," he said, helping Desmond to sit back down. Desmond let himself be helped without a word, distracted by the feeling in his gut produced by the sudden closeness of the Brit. He didn't have time to dwell on it before Shaun spoke again.

"Look, you must be hungry, so I'll go make us some lunch and Lucy can help you, erm, re-orientate yourself. Coming, Rebecca?" he said with a meaningful look.

"What? Oh, _oh! _Yes, coming. See ya later, Des," she said, and followed Shaun out of the room.

Desmond frowned, considering their odd behaviour, but dismissed it as he looked up at Lucy. She was looking down at him with an uncomfortable look on her face and as she took Rebecca's place at his feet with a sigh he realised that this was the first time he had seen her since they had slept together. He coughed somewhat awkwardly and waited for her to speak.

"Listen, Desmond, I need to talk to you and I want you to just listen because this is going to be difficult enough as it is… I've been talking it through with the others, about what happened, you know, the other night. I don't really know how Shaun found out but it doesn't matter. Look, what I'm trying to say is that I just don't think a relationship is going to work right now. I do really like you but we're Assassins and- what? No don't talk, I need to say this. We're Assassins and as an Order we're so busy right now trying to find the Pieces of Eden and avoid Abstergo while we do it, and we can't really afford to be distracted, espe- Desmond, please stop murmuring at me, just let me finish. What was I saying? Oh yes. We can't afford to be distracted, especially not me when I have so much else to do. So maybe for now we just put it on hold and then after all this is over, if we still feel the same, we can think about it then. Okay? Okay. I'm gonna go see how Shaun's doing with the food. You know what he's like." She stood, leaning in to kiss Desmond gently on the forehead before leaving the room in silence.

Desmond shook his head in disbelief. If she had let him get one word in she wouldn't have had to go through her speech at all. Frankly, he was relieved. He liked her, but he knew sleeping with her had been a mistake all along. Maybe it was better this way; if she thought it was her idea she wouldn't be mad at him for rejecting her… or for seeking solace elsewhere… in a pair of surprisingly caring British arms, perhaps? No, best not pursue _that_ thought. Just the drugs talking.

Desmond shook his head once more, as if to clear it, then began to disconnect himself from the IV and catheter. As he pulled back the sheets he realised, rather belatedly, that he was dressed in a pair of blue pyjamas. They were definitely not his, so where had they come from? Had Shaun stolen these too?

Running a hand through his hair Desmond noticed something on the cuff of the sleeve. He lowered his arm to inspect the marking – the letters S.H were embroidered in blue thread where cufflinks would have been on a dress shirt. S.H? Siena Hospital, maybe? The leftover fuzziness in his head made it hard for the Assassin to think. No, the Italian for hospital was ospedale, wasn't it? …Sherlock Holmes?

_No, you idiot! Shaun Hastings!_

* * *

><p>Desmond spent the next few days re-learning how to walk, talk, dress and eat without spilling everything down his shirt. His muscles ached and his thought processes were more sluggish than he was used to, but he was recovering quickly. Best of all, he had had no reoccurrences of the bleeding effect or, even, the 'Ezio effect'.<p>

Shaun became his tutor, helping Desmond even when the young Assassin was so embarrassed by his failure to complete basic tasks that he became angry and terse. Desmond enjoyed the time they spent together and learned more about the historian in those few days than he had ever bothered to learn before.

Shaun, for his part, was also enjoying the time they spent together. His enjoyment was rather tainted by his guilt, however, and he found himself snapping at Desmond more frequently as it played on his mind. He got angry with himself, angry with Lucy for even looking at Desmond, angry at Rebecca for stealing his yoghurts and angry at Desmond for being too forgiving about the whole damn thing. By the time Desmond was recovered, Shaun had surpassed his usual snarky self and had become a taciturn creature, glued to his computer and prone to fits of rage if interrupted. This was only worsened when Desmond, annoyed by this behaviour, began to shout back.

"Fuck, Shaun! I was only asking you if you wanted some coffee, you don't have to be such an asshole!"

"I'm sorry if I'm too fucking busy doing some actual work to listen to your inane blathering, Desmond!"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You know bloody well what it means. And if you don't then you're even more stupid than I thought!"

"Jesus Shaun, what the fuck is the matter with you?"

"The matter with me, Desmond? What's the matter with me? I don't know, could it be the fact that I can't seem to get a single thing done without you hovering, desperate to interrupt me at any moment? Could it be the fact that we haven't gotten any real work done because we're all relying on one dumb American who doesn't realise that his laziness is costing lives? Could it be the fact that I can't even work out if I love you or hate you and all I seem to hear about is Desmond this and Desmond that and I Just Can't Stand IT! Do you think that could be what's the matter with me?"

Shaun looked just as shocked by his own words as Desmond did. Panting slightly from his tirade, his mouth hung open and he stared intensely at the young assassin for a few moments, as if unable to process what had just happened. Then, suddenly, face beginning to burn scarlet, he turned away and began to shut down his computer.

"Well obviously I didn't mean love," he muttered, and fled.

Desmond stared after him, mouth agape and eyes wide, then left the room without glancing once at either of the girls, who had been silently spectating, each having learned that interfering didn't help.

"Well, fuck," said Rebecca. "I didn't see _that_ coming."

Lucy said nothing.

* * *

><p>Desmond had spent the afternoon alone in the warehouse, practising his climbing skills and sparring with a dummy he and Shaun had built together out of pillows. It was wearing the shirt Shaun had used to staunch the bleeding from Desmond's wound after the fall, and the sight of it only served to make Desmond brood more.<p>

How did Shaun get off telling him something like that? What was he supposed to do now? He could ignore it, pretend like nothing had happened and carry on arguing with the Brit at every corner. Or, and he knew this was the only sensible option, he could find Shaun and talk about it. But what was he supposed to say? Back off? He knew he should. Like Lucy had said, they were all too busy to be getting distracted right now. Whatever was going on between he and Shaun, this rivalry, this tension or whatever the fuck it was between them, should be nipped in the bud right now.

But as much as he was begrudged to admit it, that was the last thing Desmond wanted. Secretly, somewhere inside him, he was pleased. His little inner voice was telling him that this was what he had wanted all along. He had never asked to be an Assassin, never asked to be kidnapped by Abstergo and then 'rescued' by the Assassins, never asked for all this pressure and responsibility. If he had the opportunity to enjoy himself why shouldn't he take it?

The two conflicting thoughts had been circling around his mind all afternoon and he felt no closer to coming to a conclusion. With a growl of frustration he socked the dummy so hard it broke and fell to the floor with a dull whumph. He stared at it for a few seconds, then let out a sigh and began to climb the nearest stack of crates. He was in desperate need of some fresh air, some new surroundings, and the roof at sunset seemed a great idea.

He scaled the crates with ease until he came to the pipes and vents that crisscrossed the ceiling. Using them like monkey bars he made his way towards the highest window and hefted himself through, twisting around to grasp the roof and pull himself up. He emerged into the twilight and stared in dismay as he looked around to see none other than Shaun fucking Hastings sitting in front of him.

"Jesus, Desmond!" cried Shaun, exasperated. "Can't I go anywhere without you pestering me?"

"Fuck off Shaun. It's not like I expected you to be here, is it?" said Desmond, though there was no fight in his voice.

Shaun sighed. "I guess not," he conceded, "I haven't been up here for a while. Not since before you arrived."

"You used to come up here a lot?" asked Desmond, hanging onto the lifeline of a change in subject. He really wasn't in the mood for another argument with Shaun. Especially not after.. _that_.

"Sometimes. When I had a particularly difficult problem to think about, or when we lost a team and I needed some time to myself," replied Shaun quietly. He stared out into the sunset, avoiding Desmond's gaze. "There used to be a lot more of us, but things have been moving fast lately. We've lost a lot of good Assassins… I've lost a lot of friends."

Desmond stood rather awkwardly on the precipice of the roof, unsure whether Shaun's acquiescence meant he was welcome or not. He nodded sombrely but said nothing, in case he reawakened the beast.

"Sometimes I wonder whether this is all worth it. All the lives lost, the eternal war our order has been waging… and for what? The odd magic trinket? I mean, surely it would be better to just concede defeat and enjoy our lives while we can, than deprive ourselves in order to keep up this, this charade."

Desmond took a tentative step closer. Shaun seemed to be talking more to himself than to him, but it seemed like he needed someone there to listen and Desmond was happy to oblige. He had thought his next encounter with the Brit would have been awkward but so far it seemed fine, if a little melancholy. He could handle melancholy, if it meant patching things up with Shaun.

"I don't know, I think I would feel better about it all if it seemed like we were winning, but everywhere we go Abstergo is one step ahead. The best luck we've had in a long time was managing to get you out of there, but then I went and fucked up any benefit that gave us by knocking you out for a week. I wouldn't be surprised if Vidic and his cronies turned up at any moment to try and get you back, and if they succeed all this will have been for nothing."

Desmond took another step, then slowly sat down beside Shaun. He waited for the historian to speak again, but all was silent for a long moment.

"I'm not gonna let the Templars take me again, and I'm not gonna let them wreck all the work we've done. It hasn't been for nothing. Even if we don't work out where the next Piece of Eden is before Abstergo catch up to us, we fight them off, we get away, and we keep going. I've picked up Ezio's skills, I'm as good as any of you now, and I'm not going down without a fight."

Shaun snorted and looked at Desmond with a derisive smile.

"That's exactly what I'm talking about. We pick ourselves up and dust ourselves off and before we've even begun they're onto us again. They outnumber us a hundred to one. And it would be fine if we were getting somewhere, but we're not. Nothing's happening and we're all fucking miserable whilst we try."

"I'm not miserable," replied the novice, matter-of-factly. "So maybe being an Assassin wasn't my first career choice, well so what? I am one and that's that. But being what I am has led me to Lucy, and Rebecca, and you, and a cause bigger than any one of us."

"You really think it's worth it?"

"Of course it is. And I know you do too. You, uh, you're in an odd place right now, and it's obviously making you doubt yourself, but I know somewhere inside you is the real Shaun, the one that gets off on hunting down conspiracies and getting himself into trouble. The one that knows everything there is to know about the renaissance, and, well, everything."

Desmond sighed, looking out at the sunset, up at the emerging stars, anywhere except at Shaun.

"Shaun, out of all of us you're the one I admire most. You weren't born into this but you were born _for_ this. You keep us going in the right direction even when we want to give up. Without you we would get nowhere. I might even have died if it weren't for you. Okay, so you're not always the cheeriest," he said with an attempt at a teasing smile, "but damn if you're not good at this."

Shaun was fiddling with his sleeve, growing steadily redder about the ears.

"You, uh, that's what you really think of me?"

Desmond nodded seriously in reply.

"Oh. Well, um, thanks mate. You, uh, you're not so bad yourself."

_That's it?_ thought Desmond. _I just gave you the best damn speech of my life and that's your reply? You really are an asshole Shaun Hastings._

Suddenly, Shaun stood. He beckoned to Desmond without a word and then turned and started to pick his way across the roof. At first his movements were slow and cautious, but as he got into his stride he began to pick up the pace, leaping over vents and climbing steadily higher until he reached the apex of the roof, where he stood silhouetted against the setting sun, the sky a watercolour of purple hues.

Desmond arrived a few seconds later, pleased to note that Shaun was panting a little more than he was. He stood next to the historian and looked out over the sprawling countryside towards the sunset, noting the little clusters of lights that indicated villages and roads. It was a beautiful view, and in the dim glow he saw that Shaun was not looking at any of it, but instead at him.

"I wasn't sure what to say. You're right, of course. I do think it's worth it. I thought I would share this with you, but now it seems rather cheesy. Sorry about that, mate," Shaun said, scratching his head and grinning an awkward, sheepish grin.

Desmond frowned, then found himself grinning back. "It _is_ cheesy," he said, punching Shaun in the arm. "Who knew you were such a romantic?"

Shaun's grin dissipated and he looked awkwardly at his shoes, coughing nervously. "About that," he began, "I, uh, well I think it's all been a bit much lately what with me drugging you and everything and I'm just a little bit overtired, and everybody says silly things when they're tired and angry and-"

Shaun stopped abruptly as Desmond stepped closer, reaching out a hand to cup his stubbly chin in a firm hand. He lifted the Brit's face so that it was level with his own, leaned in, and pressed their lips together in a soft, tender kiss.

"_That _was cheesy," said Shaun as he regained his breath.

"Shut up," grinned Desmond, and did it again.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:**

**Hey guys...**

**So, the last thing I said to you was that I would try and upload more than once a month and that was a long time ago.. I hope I didn't upset anyone. I know what it's like when you're waiting for someone to update a story and nothing happens and you begin to wonder what's happening and whether the author is even still alive..**

**Well, here I am. I could bore you with excuses, some of them more than valid, but the main reason is simply that I got very frustrated with myself for not writing which made it harder to write which made me more frustrated and so on and so forth. But I'm hoping that I've managed to break the cycle with this, even though I wrote most of it in a rush because it's my birthday in literally ten minutes and I have to be at the airport at 4am, which means I have to leave at 2, which doesn't give me long to get ready. And I'm rambling now because I'm tired so I will leave you with this;**

**Thank you. Thank you for supporting me, not emailing me and reviewing me with abuse and requests for updates, and simply for reading. Without trying to sound all gushy, it means a lot to me that a bunch of strangers like my writing.**

**Lots of love,**

**Eden x**


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